


Fierce Competition

by greygerbil



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Day 1, M/M, yuuri prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 19:24:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13530957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: For Yuuri, there's only one obstacle to getting the future he wants and it's his fiancé.





	Fierce Competition

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Victuuri Week 2018. The prompt is "Future".

_“Yuuri!”_

_Victor opens his arms wide and his whole face lights up with a smile. The distance between them seems so far even as Yuuri speeds towards him across the ice and then he’s suddenly right there. Yuuri drives into the edge of the rink, but Victor breaks his ungraceful fall, capturing him, and Yuuri makes him carry his whole weight for a moment before he pushes his foot forward and regains his balance._

_“You have to kiss it now, Mr. Katsuki,” Yuuri says as he separates himself from Victor and all but shoves the glinting gold medal at him. Victor laughs. They haven’t even talked about which name to take yet, but Victor clearly understands the implication of Yuuri’s joke as he briefly touches his own golden ring. He bows his head, silver hair falling over his eyes._

_“You’ve earned it,” he admits before he presses his lips against the cold gold metal Yuuri is clutching in his hand, his mouth brushing Yuuri’s thumb as he does so._

“Yuuri!”

Yakov’s voice made Yuuri snap back to reality. Suddenly he was not in Victor’s arms showing off his Grand Prix gold medal and about to kiss him despite a dozen cameras pointed at them, but instead looking at a severely unimpressed Yakov standing behind the protector wall. Yuuri’s fiancé was at the other end of the rink practicing narrow turns alongside Georgi with a blank look of concentration on his face.

“Sorry, what?” Yuuri asked, sheepishly.

“I said you need to focus on the second part of the choreography until you have some semblance of consistency. Or do you want to still keep falling on your backside on that last triple Lutz by the time the season starts?”

Yuuri shook his head very quickly and pushed off the side of the rink. He wasn’t sure why he had such trouble with that triple Lutz, which was usually a manageable jump for him even at the end of a choreography, but standing here daydreaming about how he was going to win gold probably wouldn’t help him figure it out.

While he tried to find his entry point into the choreography again, he noticed Yakov’s eyes still on him. The man wasn’t even his coach, but Yuuri had noticed that he couldn’t bear to keep his attention off anyone who skated at his rink. Victor had called Yuuri Yakov’s coaching grandchild a few weeks ago, to which Yakov had only responded that if Victor were a better coach, he wouldn’t have to keep being bothered by Yuuri’s mistakes.

Not that Yuuri was complaining! If you collected all the medals Yakov’s protégés had won during his long career, he probably wouldn’t be able to carry them, and anyone who had him commenting on their performance should be happy for it.

As Yuuri fell into the first steps of the second part of his free skate program, he saw that Yakov talking to him had distracted Victor from his own training. He’d stopped moving and, as he caught Yuuri’s eyes, glided over. It still made Yuuri marvel sometimes how every movement on the ice looked completely effortless for Victor, like he weighed nothing at all.

“What is the problem?” Victor asked.

“I keep failing the second-to-last jump of the free skate, the triple Lutz,” Yuuri answered.

“You shouldn’t have any trouble with that,” Victor gave back. “What do you do again working up to it… can you run it for me?”

Tapping the tip of his left foot skate against the ice, Victor watched Yuuri as he went through the choreography. The first triple Salchow was no problem and even if in the full version of the program it followed after a first section with its own set of jumps, Yuuri was sure his stamina would carry him through. However, he flubbed the jump into the Lutz again and had to touch ground with his hand before he straightened up.

“I think I know why,” Victor said, pressing his forefinger against his lower lip for a moment. “The glide before the Lutz is very short, so it throws off your timing. I could readjust the step sequence before the jump.”

“I like the way that flows with the music, though,” Yuuri said, brushing ice dust from his track suit pants.

“Still, if your routine is easier, it’ll be cleaner.”

There was a glint of something furtive in Victor’s eyes, a lurking curiosity.

“I can do it if I practice. It’s still months,” Yuuri gave back.

The smile that curled Victor’s lips now looked satisfied.

“If you say so. The Lutz _is_ a nice surprise coming so closely after that turn and you’ll need a lot of surprises for the judges if you’re going to beat me.”

Together, they started drawing a slow circle around the outer rim of the rink to get out of the way of Mila, who was working on her Axels. They walked close enough that their shoulders touched.

“I think I can manage that,” Yuuri answered.

Victor smiled at the ceiling.

“You know, it’s a shame,” he said with a sigh. “I really do want to get married next year and if you don’t win, people will think I’m a bad coach. But unless I _let_ you win, I don’t see how you’ll take the gold – and I’m too proud to do that.”

The gently teasing tone was the same note Victor had struck when Yuuri had presented his silver medal to him after the last Grand Prix and it made Yuuri simultaneously want to kiss him and push him back against the side of the rink to make Victor watch how good he was, or perhaps for something else.

“I don’t know, Victor, I think by the end of the season people will think you’re a _great_ coach… and a silver medal would match your hair better,” Yuuri joked.

Victor opened his mouth to answer, but they were interrupted by Yakov.

“Victor, if you have time to flirt, you have time to correct your arm position in the quadruple Salchow!” he called across the rink.

Making a face, Victor glanced at Yuuri.

“The take-off does look a bit sloppy,” Yuuri agreed with a shrug.

Huffing, Victor boxed him on the arm, barely more than a gentle bump, but the movement allowed him to push himself off of Yuuri and towards the empty corner by Georgi’s side that he’d occupied before. Yuuri smiled at him before he, too, turned back to his allotted space.

His sister had once asked Yuuri if he didn’t find it uncomfortable to compete against Victor, but Yuuri had never understood that sentiment. The fact that Victor Nikiforov took him serious as a competitor was perhaps the best way in which Victor had been able to build Yuuri’s self-confidence when he’d been so clueless how to do it back at the Cup of China last year. After all, Victor was a living legend, the unbeatable five-time Grand Prix winner who now felt it necessary to work diligently on the details of his technique to make sure Yuuri could not catch up to him.

There was no question about it, Yuuri thought as he fell into the step sequence again, preparing himself for the jump; he would marry that man after next Christmas and not a single year later.


End file.
